An Unknown War
by TheScarletKnight
Summary: A story starting from nowhere in particular about a war in the eastern reaches of Arda.This version will probably change a lot and expand with time.That is if it has even an ounce of potential.
1. PrologueDisclaimer

The following story is based loosely on the Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion, which are the sole property of the legal representatives( HarperCollins I think) of and created by J.R.R.Tolkien( LOL!I know he's dead! But the books still have copyright!:D). In this instance, a war has erupted in the Eastern Reaches of Arda, and whether or not these regions were meant to be or not to be, I cannot say. The Shadow People of DaëDor, a land in the farthest East, have risen against the learned people of LaüreDòr, the Golden Land, which lies to the west of the Eastern Reaches, nearest to Middle Earth. This land had in the past been visited by Men from Middle Earth, men who had forsaken their realm for its troubles during the time of Beleriand and had sought out the East, settling with the uncivilized people they found, teaching them great lore of the West and crafts unlike they had ever seen. They also aided them in repelling the Shadow People who, although great in number, had futile arms in front of the forged metal of the Men of the West. Now, centuries after the death of the Forsaken Ancients as the Men were called, the Shadow People rise again, larger and better armed than before, seeking long forgotten vengeance.(No similarity to any other story is intended. If I have "STOLEN characters or situations, let me know, although there will be little I can do bout em.This story is meant to be a Pre-Battle diary sort of work although that may change over time. It is incomplete and requires a lot of work before it achieves perfection, or something close to it.) 


	2. Winds of Despair

**Winds of Despair**

As far as Laurenar could see, his soldiers, the soldiers of Lauredor, were arrayed in an almost perfect line over the flats of the Great Desert. He was sure, standing on the outcrop of black rock, that the coming battle, the war would be Lauredor's. As he looked to his captains, standing on either side of him, unsaddled, their young faces showed reluctance. A disinclination to go into battle, to give up their lives to a foe that was numerically superior, for in the distance, just below the horizon, was a solid black mass of man and beast, an unbreakable wall set to defy them. They too stretched beyond sight, and farther, Laurenar knew: The scouts and spies of Lauredor had told them of many of the enemy's secrets. Yet he knew there was much they did not know. He looked to the sun as high noon approached, rising higher into the sky, making time run away to the next day and the moment of truth. He sighed, knowing of the atrocities to be committed in the battle. He turned back to his tent, putting in a word to his Chief Marshall.

"Tell the watchers to increase vigilance on our flank. The east wind brings an air of deception."

The Marshall acknowledged the order, moving away swiftly to spread it.

Some of the captains started to leave, while others stayed behind to survey the lands, plotting strategies in their minds to strengthen their chances in the coming fight, whenever that might be.

Laurenar entered his tent, a sanctuary from his impending doom. The triangular enclosure was a deep red color, with yellow posts at each corner and one in the center. Facing the entrance in one corner was his bed, an elaborate wooden one with gold sheets, standard for Generals in the army. Laurenar grinned as he remembered how enraged he was as a soldier that Generals lived in such luxury. Yet he could not change that then, or now for that matter. The other Generals, although loyal and faithful, were too busy to think about the soldiers, or so they said. He shook his head. Beside it lay an intricately patterned oval shield and his grandfather's long sword in its featureless sheath. At the left of the entrance lay a chest, in which were kept his personal belongings and on top of it was the Book of the Eldar as taught by the Ancients. Laurenar retreated to the right, where a desk was set up. It was a very traditional affair, yet strong and strewn with letters from the Red Tower in the Capital City. He picked up his quill before even sitting down and immediately got to write his umpteenth letter since he had got there. It was simple really; "we need more reinforcements."  High General Jordaias had told him to say nothing aside from that topic.

Yet the process was harder than the theory. The Grand Jury was too paranoid when it came to the safety of the Red Tower. Ten thousand troops were stationed in the city itself, an act of ignorance in Laurenar's eyes, for the city remained safe only if the enemy was kept away from it. Those troops were the elite of the army, the ones that could make the difference between defeat and victory. He tried to write the request as calmly as he could, for anxiety and anticipation was creeping over him like an oncoming storm. He ended it quite abruptly by saying that the City would be wiped off the face of the Eastern Reaches if they did not respond with reinforcements. Putting his head in his hands, he thought ahead, trying to see the battle, trying to order his troops in the most effective way, trying to figure its consequences, its repercussions. He could see nothing. 

So he tried to ease his mind, taking it off his troubles for a precious few moments, moments his mind told him were vital to victory; his heart arguing his sanity was more important. He thought back to the furthest reaches of his memory, remembering all he could. He could see himself roaming the forests near his home in the highlands, by the banks of the Lake of Life. He could remember his parents, though only vaguely; leaving for the voyage they would never come home from, one to seek the fabled Middle Earth, from whence had come the Forsaken Ancients and given his people the most wonderful gifts of Knowledge and Craft. He remembered his uncles Ramioh and Rehnaus and his grandfather Gilhofian, his lifeline after his parents left. His grandfather had told him amazing stories passed down from generations, of the ancients and their exploits in the Western Reaches, and his uncles had helped him grow to the man he was today. He remembered shooting his first arrow at ten after being taught by his uncle Ramioh, a master hunter, through the heart of a mother doe, her children fleeing, scared. He had later captured them and raised those to full grown stags, aided by Rehnaus, the wisest of men Laurenar had ever known, and had released them into the wild again. He remembered crafting his own small sword and bows at the age of thirteen; looked over but unassisted by his uncles and grandfather. 

Then his thoughts turned dark, as the memories of the First Wars came to him. The Shadow People, a numerically superior race of barbarians, had advanced in numbers and technology, isolated in their mountain homes to the East. And now they were rising to conquer the Golden Land and destroy its people, greedy for the knowledge and wealth of Lauredor. Both his uncles and grandfather had died in the First Wars, and nearly all of his close friends had died since. The rumors that the barbarians had been aided by others was something Laurenar could not admit to as being true, but could not forsake either, for the wind had changed over the course of the war, as it had never done. All the Elders in the Grand Jury were afraid, yet they themselves did not know what the reason for their fear was.

"Shiruan!" he called to his guard "Have one of the errand runners deliver this letter. Choose the swiftest. Go now." The guard took off from the tent at a run, running to the cave under the cliff where the messengers housed. 

Then Laurenar turned his attention to other matters. On the desk in a corner lay a letter, and a red flower in the shape of a star, one that the Ancients said did not even grow in the West. It had been sent to him by his wife, the****Uryaner Vanessë, the Burning Beauty as she was named, like himself, in the Ancient tongue. Her letter was smudged with teardrops, and Laurenar loathed having to be away from her in this time. Yet he knew if he was not here, she would never see another day of peace. His hand felt light, powerless, as he picked up his quill again and began writing to his wife, whom he had no hope of seeing ever again. He stopped for a moment before writing, realizing that this might be his last letter to his beloved, his only family left. So he started, a formality creeping into his words that he tried desperately to vanquish;

**_Dearest Vanessë_**

****

**_Thirty cycles of the sun have passed since I last saw the shine of your face in the gardens of the City. Only words I am left with to cherish your memory and remember you, my most beloved. I can give you no songs of comfort, save this that whatever follows, you shall have peace, at least for enough time as it takes to take our daughter and sail away from these troubles. Our army is formidable, yet their numbers are far larger than were previously thought. We have advantage in arms and training and I, at least, am optimistic. Yet the other generals are not, and I am now beginning to think rightly so. Let this not worry you, for it is for you that I am here, for your safety. Nothing I can say will bring us closer at this point in time, for time is running fast and is not giving us the chance to prepare. I shall say no more, for no more words I can find to say to you. Yet I hope to see you again soon, and say all that I have locked up in my heart. I love you and always will, no matter where tomorrow takes us. Remember me always, as I shall you._**

****

**_Yours Forever,_**

**_General Laurenar_**

****

He read it over once more amazed at how foreign he sounded. Yet try as he might he could not find anything else to write. He shook his head and called his guard in again, giving him the letter, telling him again to have it delivered swiftly. When the guard went away Laurenar sat again in silence, thinking of nothing. There was cheering in the desert outside, the soldiers trying to lift their spirits, acting as a breaker for the harsh winds of the East. In the darkening sky he could see dancing lights and songs of mirth and happiness that had no right to be sung in that place and time, Laurenar thought. He realized that he was among war veterans, soldiers who had been fighting for close to five and even ten years! A small laugh erupted from him, sounding more like a croak, causing his guard to rush in, dagger unsheathed. He smiled and waved him away, realizing how parched his throat had become. He got up, amazed at how hard it was to do so, and had a drink of water. It soothed him unlike ever before. Water seemed like an Elixir for Life preceding each battle, which it was, Laurenar told himself. He was about to lie down to sleep when Shiruan came in again.

"Sire, the Generals request your presence at the war meeting." He said, standing erect in spite of the fatigue Laurenar knew he must be feeling.

Laurenar hung his head. He had forgotten the meeting. They were supposed to discuss the final tactics for defensive offensive maneuvers. Immediate friskiness came over Laurenar. He would have to face the High General in circumstances where he had made a mistake. He did not want to do that.

"Tell them I am coming. Prepare the horse.  I shall be out momentarily". He sat on his bed for a moment watching the light from the fire signal going off and on as a message was relayed to the far hill where all the generals had met each day for the past thirty days. He knew what was to be discussed. The same thing they had talked of yesterday, and the day before, and before that. He saw no sense in it at first, repeating the same things over and over again. But he realized they needed as much finesse as they could get because it was the only way they could ensure victory, or more realistically, hinder the enemy, keep him at a standstill. Standing up he grabbed his cloak from a hook on the centre post, turning back again to pick up his sword and helmet from beside his bed. As he got out a breeze of warm air hit his face, turning his thoughts dark. The air was sooty, as if the enemy was trying to blind them before the battle, and sure enough Laurenar could only see the light of the fire signal on the far hill to the right. He comforted himself in his sudden alarm by blaming it on the approaching night. His horse was standing in front of the tent, his two guards standing erect beside the tent flap. He mounted the animal and went down the path to the right of the tent leading to the desert floor.As soon as he got down a trio of Horse Archers followed him, guarding him, something Laurenar saw as unnecessary. They took off at a trot, Laurenar surveying as much of the camp grounds as he could see in the black evening air. He could see different banners of the Generals, with soldiers of those hosts moving here and there within    the different enclosures allotted to each house. He was glad to see that there was no segregation today as there had been in minor battles before. The different companies were intermingling, sharing stories, talking, laughing, singing, dancing, in full battle armor, with one hand on their swords, archers holding their bows in their hands, pikemen moving around with their pike held ready in their hands, each separate company moving in unison in the vast campgrounds. Yet none were drinking, and Laurenar knew they hadn't been for the High General had told his Generals, who had in turn told their captains, to give them full reports on the soldiers' behavior. Laurenar's heart swelled with pride for his people and he smiled, sitting upright on his horse, emboldened by this show of strength and readiness. In the distance were other fires, colored blue, and ones he knew marked the positions of the front guard of General Yalanwe. Soldiers saluted him as he went past, he saluted back, smiling. They then passed the enclosures where the horses for the knights were kept. All his Knights and those of the High General and General Polark were stationed here. Laurenar was astonished to see that the literally thousands of knights had set up an impromptu camp on three sides of the enclosure, spreading their bedding onto the ground and sleeping there in full gear, distinguishable as which General's they were only by the color of their armor, laid out in close to a hundred rows in the huge area where their tents should have been. And they were organized in a system where the front formation was sleeping nearest to the enclosure. The mile long end facing Laurenar and the battlegrounds was left free as the gates were situated there. The horses were also organized, with those of the front formation of the High General nearest to the gates. He decreased to a slow pace, shutting his mouth after realizing it was open. Some of the knights unable to go to sleep from where he was passing stood up to salute but he waved them down, surveying the huge enclosure, threatening to be overcome by emotion as he saw the commitment of his soldiers. 

"Sire, we should be going to the meeting now" one of his guards spoke out, bringing him back to reality. They were at the base of the hill, and he didn't even know it, it being at the centre of the host.

"Yes," he said looking up the winding path, suddenly realizing his destination "Yes let's go." The guard who had spoken led the way, Laurenar behind him, followed by the other guards. The lead guard turned aside to the left as the reached the upper clearing. Laurenar proceeded to the front of the tent, some tenders coming to help him off and take his horse. In the light of the surrounding fire stands he could see the five-sided light blue tent, glittering with its silver lace edges, gems glittering on the flap. The guards stood erect by the opening here too. He walked past them into the tent, the gems clinking with his metal armor.


	3. A Meeting of Wills

**A Meeting of Wills.**

"I'm glad you could join us General Laurenar." The inside of the tent was packed with many people, ten of them Generals of Lauredor, all hunched over a five-sided  table placed in relation to the tent. Some of them were looking up, tense faces questioning, High General Jordaias being the one who had spoken. The others were too involved within war map laid out on the table, littered with little gold figurines, dozens of them. There were black ones too, in the far corner, far more in number, signifying the enemy. The sides of the tent were covered with benches, on which sat the guards and captains of the Generals, still as statues. Laurenar felt ashamed that his captains were already here while he had to be called in. He made his way to the table. He could see a slightly lifted flap at the back, which he knew was the High General's own quarters.

"I am sorry for being late High General. I was sending in the request for reinforcements as you requested. There was…much to think after that and I stopped on my way to survey the troops and see their readiness." He immediately turned his face down, looking at the map and trying to look as though he was formulating a strategy. He did not want to look the General in the face for he knew of what he was about to say.

The General looked at Laurenar, clean black hair combed full back, a peck of grey here and there, unusually bright orange-brown eyes glinting, yet his small mouth shut tight, lips as thin as could be, his teeth looking ready to grind each other to pieces moving to and fro in his mouth. "I believe I warned you about being sharp of mind Laurenar. I believe I have told you countless of times throughout the thirty days that we have spent here, to be _ready_, _alert, on _your toe,_ so that we may have _some _chance of defeating an enemy that is **two times **stronger than us!". The High General had his hands on the table, clenching the map, knuckles white, his eyes were wide with what Laurenar saw not as anger, but shock, at the fact that he still could not get through to his own brother-in-law who, albeit much younger than all his counterparts, had seen and done more and should therefore have known better._

"Let us get on with the preparations Jordaias." Spoke General Polark. "This is no time for anger. Laurenar, you know of your formations and how to conduct them?"  

Laurenar nodded, thankful for his longtime mentor for intervening. "Yes General. I have the right-centre flank and will act as cover and, if need be, rear guard to the advance force. My strike formation is to consist of solely Horse Archers where as the Knights are to follow behind to act as a possible deterrent to any advancing foot soldiers. I explained our part to my troops as you requested and am confident that we will win this battle."

"HA! Then you're the only one boy! This is going to be our undoing. We should have fallen back to protect the Capital! Where we still have some fortifications! Instead we come here in the open to fight a barbarian host more than two times our size!" Laurenar did not need to look up to know who had spoken. It was General Blekan of the infantry division. He was a tall yet spreading man with a trimmed grey beard, slightly lopsided nose and dull brown close-set eyes, a full compliment of close cut brown-grey hair on his head. He had been against this undertaking from the start and had given this same speech each day since they had been here. There was silence for quite some time, some Generals contemplating the thought, others shaking their head in amusement and disbelief, still more unaware of the now common bickering, going on plotting formations. Then, Jordaias spoke in the calmest tone he could manage;

"Blekan I'm sure you understand we are expecting battle, oh what, tomorrow?" He said still looking down at the map, surveying it but not really looking at anything.

A gruff sound issued from Blekan, knowing his mistake, "Yes".

Jordaias looked up, with a look in his eyes that scared some of the gathering, amusing those who knew him well. "Then why, pray tell, are you trying to persuade us, for the Valar know what time, to go back to the City because we are _useless _here?!" He was now leaning over across the table to where Blekan stood. Blekan himself had taken a few steps back and was looking as though he had received a scolding from his father. 

"I am sorry High General. The heat of the day and the anxiety has been taking its toll on me and my people. As you know we are accustomed to siege combat and…"

"Yes yes, I know! You feel you do not have the skills and what not." Jordaias spoke in a bored tone, the look in his eyes vanishing, making everyone including Laurenar, who realized he was standing on his toes, calm down. Jordaias looked up at Blekan across the table again, a small smile, as big as _he_ could manage, on his face. "Well see to it that it doesn't happen again." He ordered. He then spoke in a tired tone, "I have seen you in combat Blekan, and if there's anyone there who can save our hides or feast on the enemy to avenge us it's you. I trust you with my life my friend, and I would not see you any other place than behind me, to be there when I need you." He looked to Blekan for a little while, smiling, such as he did, causing Blekan to turn his head down in shame, with a grin, albeit a more prominent one, on his face.

"I am sorry High General," he said looking up. "It will not happen again."

"Good! Good!" said Jordaias, standing up straight, looking around brightly, "Now down to business. Let us revise our numbers and positions shall we? Laurenar! Your Numbers and positions please!"

"2500 Horse Archers, 5000 Knights sir, Right Guard flank to your advance force." Laurenar spoke up. He watched as the other Generals gave the High General the number of Soldiers in their hosts. Between the Cavalry of High General Jordaias, Laurenar and General Polark (the left flank guard leader), there were around twenty five thousand mounted knights and Horse Archers. Between the Infantry Divisions of Generals Blekan, Bragil, Toreen, Tajral, Kilgel and Maygard there were close to thirty thousand troops consisting of Pikemen, Swordsmen, Archers and Macemen, who were supported by the a large contingent of War Machines that threw fiery rocks and shot giant arrows. They were simply called the Demons of War, for they caused immense destruction, many a time to their own forces due to mismanagement. This force was to act as the Right and Left Flanks to the army, advancing after the Cavalry had made the first charge, or stopping the enemy if the charge failed and he followed. The last force consisted of around fifteen thousand assorted soldiers and artillery, which was to act as rearguard and reserve troops if needed. It was commanded by the Lady Yalanwe, the only female general in the army. Indeed the only female in the army for none had been as bold as her to join. She had been set to this position not because she was a poor leader, but because she was wife to High Elder Palamir, who requested she be kept safe, ignoring her reservations about that order. She had been very angry for being treated like this, but had seen reason, and was now sitting down on a bench, her powerful yet smooth frame held straight, showing no sign of weakness.

"Very well then." Spoke Jordaias, his voice a little dry, sounding husky. He cleared his throat "Our strategies have been perfected to the highest point. The enemy force seems to have no plan of attack which their formations would suggest, and I, at least, am certain that we shall succeed if we follow our plan. All that is left to say is that I wish you all good luck. Midnight approaches, and we should get some sleep before the day begins. The bells will be rung some time before dawn to wake everyone up. Let us hope that they need not be rung before that. Indeed, let us hope the battle does not take form tomorrow." At this the faces of all present turned dark, the guards sitting on the benches looking thunderstruck as reality hit them. All the Generals received their helmets and cloaks from their respective guards or captains and, one by one, left, saluting to the High General as they went a small train of people behind each. Laurenar stayed behind, his captains having have left on his order, wishing to stay in company with the only family member he had there.

"I wrote to Vanessë, General." Laurenar spoke, looking at him, after both had stood a while leaning on the table, facing the tent entryway, staring into nothingness. 

Jordaias looked back, the same unique smile on his fifty year old face, "Jordaias, boy, Jordaias! When the rest of the authority disappears I am just, plainly, Jordaias." He looked back out the door. Laurenar turned too, observing the fine black soot that was blowing westwards like a sheer cloth of air, not expecting any other answer, not wanting one. But he got it, from a suddenly laughing High General, his shoulders bobbing up and down in a sort of silent laughter "I did too! HA! Told her ev-ev-everything was going to be f-f-fi-fine!" Laurenar laughed with him, forcing it out, knowing his Brother-In-law did not mean to be so, because the High General's jawbone was shaking visibly, and not from laughing.

"You know I am hoping that the battle _does take form tomorrow." Spoke Jordaias again; looking at his boots, "Maybe our suffering will end then! Maybe they won't be so harsh with our people! Maybe they will just be happy and leave us be, content with our defeat. After all, one side has to lose eh!" he said looking at his brother-in-law, "Why not the weakest one." He was shaking his head now, looking down, and his shoulders visibly shaking straining under his weight they were supporting on the table. He was speaking in low voices so as to be heard only by Laurenar, sounding hesitant yet defeated. Laurenar was staring at him wide-eyed; amazed to see this scared, weakened and nervous side of the man he called the Erë Hón, the Iron Heart in the ancient tongue. He immediately found himself falling victim to these dark thoughts, but composed himself and stood up, breathing in the air, regretting it immediately, for a handful of soot had gone down his throat. He stood up then, facing his brother-in-law, making the High General lift his face up to look at the younger man. Without realizing he took on a stern look, for he had felt betrayed by the very man he was supposed to follow to his death. He had seen a level of commitment and readiness in the soldiers that he had never seen before! He could see none of the soldiers drowning in worst case scenarios of their own making, but had seen a host who saw certain victory in battle. And here was their commander, slumped in front of a table, contemplating death and surrender while his forces stood ready to fight hell and high water._

"How **could **you? How could you even think of giving up? How can you **think of betraying your people and your family so easily, ****Iron Heart? Have you even ****seen your soldiers 'o ****wise one? Have you seen the valor that they possess! Have you seen how they are ready to follow you to their ****deaths, knowing, and I'm ****beginning to think wrongly, that their ****leader will not let them die?! HOW COULD YOU FORGET YOUR FATHER?! HOW COULD YOU FORGET YOUR BROTHER?!HOW COULD YOU FORGET THE FAMILIES OF COUNTLESS OTHER WHO WERE SLAUGHTERED FOR NO REASON!?" The words came out slowly at first, picking up speed, rising to a crescendo and then echoing off into the desert, heard by many, Laurenar could tell from whispered voices of the guards behind. The High General was looking straight up at Laurenar, his eyes glossed with tears which threatened to burst out, held back only by the position of his head. It was only then that Laurenar jerked back to the world, looking at that face that had been as intimidating before as it was vulnerable now, open to the world, lost, without any guard, having had lost all its dignity to a lesser person. Laurenar felt more ashamed than he had ever been, and his mouth started to open and close, saying nothing in particular. **

"Perhaps," spoke Jordaias in low paused tones, still looking up "you should leave now."

Laurenar tried to turn in a word of regret, trying to apologize, taking a step towards the General, but the General got up and retreated to the back of the tent towards the entrance to his own lodgings, walking fast with strong steps. "Leave!" And with that he disappeared behind the flap.


	4. The Last Days

**The Last Days**

**_The second day: _**_I, Laurenar, am writing these events from the safety of a cave, in what may well be the last days of the Soldiers of Lauredor, and indeed Lauredor itself. Yesterday we were ambushed by the enemy, even as we left to return back home to the City. In the morning before our return we were welcomed, falsely, by the sight of him (the enemy) turning away back to its recesses. They falsely made us believe there was to be no battle and we could return back to our homes. Yet as we later learned, the enemy had sent a large part of its host behind us in the night, to attack us as we retreated. The forces of the Lady Yalanwe were hit first, and hardest, and much of the enemy was killed fighting the Lady's soldiers, who still perished utterly along with the Lady herself. What we had to face was a small force compared to that which had attacked us, yet it was enough to destroy all of our front cavalry, partly because of our inability to mobilize quickly, partly because of the ferocity of the enemy attack. Before we could even begin to organize our ranks, the enemy hit us hard, its horses and camels charging into us like a wild fire, breaking down the front ranks mercilessly, decimating ten thousand of our cavalry and infantry in the first attack. Most of the infantry was now destroyed, leaving only our cavalry to repel the attack, as the remaining infantry was behind us and unable to move in quickly in the hilly rock strewn terrain. _

_The enemy had arrows of fire and in the middle of its host were large machines of war, much larger than our own, capable, as we saw, of spraying fire over tens of feet. They killed the bulk of our knights, and the horse archers were left to defend the remaining knights and infantry as they sought to retreat. We tried to get around them; turning south and heading towards the Valley of Gorges, hoping to make a stand there, yet as we soon found out, the remaining host of the enemy had come back behind us, seeking to press into our backs while the smaller party crushed us from the front. We just escaped their arrows, forming up into the old fortifications in the __Valley__ of __Gorges__. As we were below ground level, the enemy formed up on the edges of the various gorges where the remaining force had sought refuge and is raining arrows and rocks down at us even as I speak. There have been no heavy losses since we came into these forgotten halls, yet every now and then some brave soldier falls to a misguided or well shot projectile. The Generals now sit in the most inner of caves, and some are discussing tactics, while others, like me, have given over their lives to the hands of the Vala, to do with as they please._

**_Evening: _**_There is talk of beasts that are on their way from the strongholds of DaëDor; beasts that stand taller than the tallest men, and can turn rocks into grain with a mere slap. Our scouts go by night to the edges of the gorge and pick up any information they can, not that it does us much good. All we have left are a few hundred carrier birds, which we had kept for during travel. We have to let dozens go at a time with the same message for the enemy shoots them before they can get away. Although I myself did see one or two escape last time or at least from the foremost ranks of the enemy. There is no way of knowing whether any of our messages reached the City, for there is nothing they can do now. I leave this diary behind for no reason that I can see, save to record the events as they lead up to the death of the soldiers of Lauredor.  No sooner do I pen these words that a soldier falls. They are bringing his body inside now, and he passes us by on the shoulders of his bearers, with a fatigued expression etched into his dead face. I shall leave now. I must take my place with the Generals again. _

**_The fifth day: _**_There is thunder in the distance. Not of rain, but as if a thousand mounts were galloping across the lands. The soldiers fear that the beasts have at last arrived. The pride of Lauredor is waning in this moment of trial. The soldiers sit with their heads down, the younger ones whimper with dread, the defenders occasionally strike off an arrow to the enemy, who does not seem to be taking advantage of our indirect submission. The Generals themselves have given up trying to get the soldiers to not lose hope. I shall rest now. The day has been long._

**_Late afternoon_**_: A parley was called for by the enemy. A herald came to the mouth of the cave bearing the flag of peace to tell us to give up. He told us that their quarrel was with the Soldiers of Lauredor, not its people, and that they wanted only to take us prisoner and leave Lauredor and its people free. _

_We have consulted with each other, and all the captains of all the ranks. The pride of Lauredor has taken its last breath as the commanding hierarchy decided to surrender. The herald has given us some time to decide, and he shall be back by nightfall._

**_Evening: _**_High General Jordaias has refused surrender! The Herald has been slain! The High General is rallying the troops and plans to ride out to battle! This is my last entry! It is somehow rewarding to see him like this again! If this is ever found, and sent to my wife, tell her I was thinking of her everyday! Tell her to go to the west! Sail away! I  must fight now! For the pride of Lauredor!Farewell! And may the Valar be with us!_


End file.
